


For a Moment, We Get to Be Glorious

by chem_phiz



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Smut, F/F, Glimbow Sideplot, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Rating will change!, Slow Burn, adora is a classical pianist, catra is a jazz bassist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chem_phiz/pseuds/chem_phiz
Summary: Adora was always pretty certain about the path her life would take. She's a classical piano prodigy, after all. It's fitting that she attend the finest music school in the US: The Juilliard School of Music. Except, it's not that simple. For the first time in her life, she's forced to look inward and figure out what she really wants out of life - all while the weight of her own expectations and uncertainties threaten to destroy her.And yet, support and strength can often come from the most unexpected places; she certainly doesn't expect it from some catgirl from the south who can shred on the bass.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Kudos: 32





	1. A Walking Shadow, a Poor Player

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first time I've posted any of my writing anywhere, so I hope y'all enjoy. This might be a long one, but I hope to update pretty regularly!  
> (The title of the fic are some lyrics from "Four" by Sleeping At Last)

It seemed that the subway could simply never, _ever_ be on time. Even if the world depended on it. Of course, this was the morning Adora _actually_ had somewhere to be; classes hadn’t even started yet. This part was supposed to be easy. Glimmer was gonna kill her.

The crowd did nothing to quiet her mind, either. Such a wide assortment of humans and beastpeople were uncommon back in Saratoga, and she attempted to rein in her thoughts, focusing on the people waiting for the train. You had your more common species intermixed with your run-of-the-mill humans: the lizards, the felines, the canines. She could’ve _sworn_ she saw a deer, or at least something with very large antlers, on the other side of the platform. Humans still made up the majority, though. Of course, the constantly shifting sea of people made it difficult to make out any one face for too long.

There were also a lot of sounds going on. People on phone calls, announcements buzzing over the intercom, and even the low din of a guitar, hiding under the roar of all of the other noises. You see a lot of those in New York City, especially in the subway. People with an art, trying to share it with the world for little bits of spare change. In the hustle and bustle of the city, with its grayscale colors and stock markets and other very serious business, the music was refreshing. Adora briefly wonders if the guitarist had gone to music school, or if he had a degree. If they had once been in the exact same position as she was, and whether or not she was destined to follow. Who the _hell_ goes to music school anyways? Get a real damn job.

Okay, _Jesus_ , time to stop that. Adora ran through her short list of affirmations.

_I am talented._

_I’m not wasting my time._

_I’m right where I’m supposed to be._

The hard part was making herself believe these things. The far-away guitarist continued to pluck out a rousing, flamenco-style melody.

As if on cue, the subway car groaned to a stop in front of her, interrupting her inner monologue. The doors open and she made her way inside, but not before after letting the throng of people on their way out slide past her — It may be New York City, but she still wanted to be polite.

Adora took a seat, sent a hasty text to Glimmer about the delay, and put in her earbuds. She took in a deep breath, and let out a contented sigh to herself. As hectic as the city could be, she was still happy to be back. It’s easy to get a little cabin-feverish after being back in Saratoga on break for the past few months. Razz always meant well, but there’s only so many long afternoons and evenings you can spend cooped up in the her little bakery. Adora swears she’ll be working the smell of flour and frosting out of her clothes for weeks. Although, it’s not like she could be too upset about it. The smells of a bakery, the thick scent of rain and mist in the upstate air; those were the scents of home. As the semester got more involved, Adora knows that a part of her will miss that slower pace. Speaking of her clothes, this morning, she was dressed in a casual button up with a minimalistic pattern and a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. A thick, deep-blue scarf was also draped around her neck. The weather _was_ starting to cool, after all. Her hair was done up in her infamous little ponytail with a poof, which she often asserted, was _actually_ called a pompadour.

The city felt familiar, even as overwhelming as it could be at times. Especially Times Square, where she was headed for right now. Glimmer always insisted on getting a slice of Junior’s famous cheesecake before the semester officially started; A small smile played at her lips at the thought. Adora was never one to pass up on good food, especially dessert masquerading as breakfast. She would then head back her dorm with Glimmer to finish setting up everything, and then they could _finally_ relax for the first time in 24 hours or so. Excited for the coming day’s events, she mindlessly opened up her phone and put on a podcast. The Josh Wright Piano podcast, to be specific. Adora wanted to get back into “music mode” in time for classes — you never know when inspiration may strike.

She stared out the window for some time, looking at nothing in particular. Well, there really was nothing to look at. Just the blurred color of brick and concrete racing by at 50 miles per hour. Adora wasn’t really looking, to be honest. She was just letting the drone of the podcast, and the hum of the train, wash over her: trying to relax back into this routine. Although, she wasn’t sure if one could _ever_ get used to New York City. It always had the tendency to keep you on your toes.

_“You have to define what your motivation is. Why do you want to pursue music? What elements of music do you want to master?”_

_Yikes_. That line in the podcast had quickly cut though. Her eyes widened with awareness, now roused from her peaceful little stupor. With a frustrated huff and a crease in her brow, Adora fished out her phone from her pocket and selected her repertoire playlist. Something a little more familiar. The notes of these pieces had already been etched into her hands, down the lines of her fingers. She, herself, was like a well-oiled machine on the keys. You had to be, if you wanted to keep up at Juilliard. It helped that Adora had been plinking around on the instrument long before she could even talk right. Piano, especially classical, had always held that certain charm. She’d certainly get pissy with anyone who dared suggest that it was “boring,” or something like that. She’d claim that they had never just found the right piece yet. There’s something for everyone in the genre, she’d point out.

Without thinking about it, her fingers started to softly thump against her thigh, in time with the music. She followed the well-practiced movements, settling again into a thoughtless daze.

A few miles away, a certain catgirl was doing nearly the exact same thing. Except, instead of tracing the lines of keys, she was thumping against imaginary bass strings with her long, calloused fingers. Jazz, in lieu of classical, thrummed through her headphones. The bass had been tuned up slightly, so that a listener could make out the lower end with greater detail. Herbie Hancock _always_ knew how to hit the spot, she thought briefly. It’s just a shame those headphones don’t fit her ears a little better. There was a little pinch where her feline ears have to bend to fit under to headband, but it was better than earbuds. Now _those_ little shits were certainly not designed with folks like her in mind.

Catra’s bus was not moving towards cheesecake or Times Square, where, in her opinion, the lights were always a little too harsh and artificial. Times Square was for people with money to spend. Something to prove, perhaps. Tourists who wanted to snap a quick picture for their Instagram with a quirky caption or some dumb shit like that. No, Catra’s bus was rattling towards University Heights, just above the Manhattan burrow, to a small, hole-in-the-wall record shop where she got to sell vinyls and try her best not to get mugged. Not that anyone with an ounce of sense in their head would fuck with _her_ ; her claws could body someone before you’d even know what’s happening.

She’s not sure the city would ever feel like home. She also couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. Ugh, this wasn’t the morning to get caught up in that. Class was starting in a few days, after all. This area of New York _did_ remind Catra of her home back in Charleston, though. Same layer of dust that seemed the settle over everything. Same sense of being stuck. Same sinking feeling that _something_ bad was going to happen, at all times.

Or maybe that was just her — Who the fuck knows.

This same foreboding feeling was mirrored on her face. She had a habit of trying to remain aloof, disconnected. But her instincts, animal or otherwise, kept her eyes constantly shifting, taking in the scene: remaining alert, just in case. And she had reason to. Her bass guitar case was sitting over her lap, and both of Catra’s arms were protectively resting upon it. Guitars, especially fixed up the way hers was, could easily fetch a grand or more if given to the right appraiser. All of the components had been custom-ordered and adjusted by Catra’s own hand, with a little help from Entrapta’s tools. It was like an extension of her body, which is exactly what a good instrument ought to be. She _wasn’t_ about to lose the one nice thing she owned, especially when it was about the only thing keeping her sane on the slow days at the record store, which, granted, were most days. She still enjoyed her job, though. Her boss was rarely ever in the shop, and when he was, he was blazed out of his mind. How he managed to keep up a business in New York City was beyond her. As long as her paycheck arrived on time, she wasn’t about to complain.

Catra’s fingers continued to tap on her case. The baseline bounding around in her headphones was starting to get more involved. In her mind’s eye, she could imagine where the notes in her ears would sit on the fretboard: what shape it might take on her instrument. More importantly, how she could take it and make it her own. And that certainly was the case; what Catra lacked in technical skill on her instrument, she could more than make up with her amazing musical ear and sense of style. She always said it was better to be that way; those snobby classical musicians with their flawless technique _messed up_ as soon as their precious sheet music was taken away. You gotta learn how to read _off_ the page. You gotta learn how to improvise. You gotta learn how to _feel_ it, not just read and regurgitate it. That was how she approached her coursework at Juilliard, at least. Catra never thought the music school could have a place for a scrappy little hick from West Virginia, but that’s where the best of the best went.

And she was nothing if not determined to be just that. Even if it _would_ cost an arm and a leg to repay those loans.

Slowly, her ride screeched to a stop, sending her lurching forward slightly in her seat. She quietly gathered her things, slung her battered guitar case over her back, and stepped off the bus into the crisp, autumn air. It was only a short walk from there to her lovely place of work. She took a long, thirsty draught from her coffee mug and got going. Sweet, sweet dirty bean water. She’s glad she dressed warm; her fit today consisted of a simple maroon hoodie, a denim jacket, and a pair of weathered black jeans, tanned slightly at the knees from years of bending and stretching. There was also a small hole cut out in the back, where her tail could feed on through. At least in New York City, Catra thought, they were more tolerant and accommodating towards the beastpeople.

Eventually, the weathered sign that read “ _Head Hunters Record Shop_ ” came into view around the corner. Her drink bit back a little in her mouth, hot when juxtaposed against the biting morning breeze.

Adora walked up the subway stairs and into iconic Times Square. It was like stepping into a completely new world: large LED screens, smells from food carts, and people from all walks of life. After being cooped up underground for the past half hour in her own little world, the sudden onslaught of sensory information was almost too much. All she had to do was look for the tell-tale crop of lilac hair…

Glimmer was not far, peering down at her phone, tapping her foot and looking around. She looked rather impatient. _Must be ready for that cheesecake._

Adora then called out.

“Hey, Glimmer!”


	2. Into The Swing of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took waaaay longer than I would have liked to get this one out. Finals are over now though, thank god, so new chapters should come a bit quicker! This one ended up really long, so I split it into two to make it a little easier to digest. I hope you enjoy!

“Jesus Christ, Adora, what _took_ you so long?”

“Well, it’s good to see you too, Glimmer. You know how the subways are,” Adora gestured vaguely in the air at that. Even as people slipped past the two of them, it was like they were in their own little bubble.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re lucky that I’m in a good mood. Y’know, for the _cheesecake_. Not because I’m seeing my best friend for the first time in a few weeks or anything,” Glimmer said, painfully nonchalant. Purely for shits and giggles, of course. She was certainly laying it on thick. Glimmer’s lips betrayed a subtle smirk. Facing Adora head on now, she opened her arms up.

“Can I _please_ get a hug now?”

“Get over here, right this instant.”

Adora barely had time to finish her sentence before she was wrapped up in a tight hug. Time seemed to freeze a tick before they separated. Glimmer let out a satisfied huff.

“Okay _okay_ , time for cheesecake?” She asked.

_Someone must be excited._

“Time for cheesecake,” Adora confirmed matter-of-factly with a content smile. Glimmer let out a high-pitched little squeal. Arm in arm, they made their way down the sidewalk of Times Square towards Junior’s. The crowds were always enormous, and Adora would often joke about how easy it would be to lose Glimmer in the sea of people. Glimmer would then let out a few, obviously fake laughs and pretend to be ticked for a minute or two. That’s just how their friendship had always been: easygoing, steady, and lighthearted. They continued down the street making small talk, even if they had to speak up slightly to be heard.

“How was your ride down here?” Adora asked, keeping her gaze focused ahead.

“Oh you know, same as always. Just trying to not fall asleep the whole time. I got some _really_ pretty pictures of the skyline, though,” she shrugged at that. “Pretty uneventful. What about you?”

Adora recalls the countless hours of packing and hauling her stuff all over the city, trying to make it to her dorm without her back snapping in half. Driving a car in the city was as good as suicide; not that she owned a car. _No parking, anyways._

“Oh, you know, just as horrible as always. I thought the bus driver was gonna give me shit for all of my luggage,” Adora answered with a short chuckle. Glimmer hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, I figured. You actually have to _haul_ your instrument around. I’ve got _mine_ with me wherever I go,” she replied cockily, pointing to her throat. Really, more towards her vocal cords. Adora rolled her eyes.

“Psh, _whatever_. Imagine only being able to sing one note at a time,” she shot back playfully.

“Oh yeah? Imagine having to _pay attention_ in theory classes,” Glimmer snickered.

Now they were both laughing softly to one another. For the first time since Adora arrived back in the city, she felt like she could finally relax. She managed to let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

“So,” Glimmer said, changing the topic, “what do we need to grab from the store after we leave?”

“Just standard college kid food, I guess. I know I’ve got to pick up some protein powder,” Adora whipped out her phone and flipped to her notes, muttering to herself, “and some chicken breasts wouldn’t be a bad idea. Healthy proteins. You brought the air fryer, yeah?”

“Adora, how could I survive as a student without it? Of _course_ I brought it,” she tugged on Adora’s arm, “plus, I know you gotta get those gains.”

“Of course, of course,” Adora repeated, mostly to herself. Truth be told, when she wasn’t in class or practicing, she was at the gym. Rest had always been a unknown concept to her. Might as well’ve been a foreign language.

Before too long, they had arrived at their destination and slipped through the doors. The crowd was no thinner in here; Junior’s was a popular destination for tourists and locals alike. The two girls fell into a weird gray area, being students. Adora and Glimmer eventually made their way up to the front, apologizing for showing up a hair late to their reservation. Without it, they’d probably be waiting for close to an hour for a table, especially on a Sunday. While Glimmer was handling that, Adora got out her phone and hopped on Instagram. She noted that Bow had moved in just fine; the first thing on her feed was a picture of him and his roommate Seahawk setting up their place. Adora’s heart beat happily in her chest.

_The gang is getting back together._

Eventually, they were shuttled off to a two-person table in the corner. Like most places in the city, the shop was incredibly close, almost cramped. It was clear that the owners were trying to squeeze every last square foot out of the place. It smelled _amazing_ in here, like flour and graham cracker crust and _warmth_. Adora made a mental note to figure out how to get one of these cheesecakes to Razz. Can you even _ship_ cheesecake? Maybe she’d surprise her with one for winter break. Turning to Glimmer, Adora let her know that Bow had moved in.

“Oh, good. Do you think he’ll still be down to join us for dinner tonight?” Glimmer wondered out-loud. Adora just gave a shrug.

“I’d _hope_ so. He said he’d be picking the place, after all.”

That much was true. Unlike Adora and Glimmer, Bow was a native New Yorker, born and raised in Brooklyn. He knew all of the great spots to grab a bite to eat. They had first met at freshman orientation two years ago; Glimmer and Adora were practically attached at the hip, having grown up in upstate New York together. Bow, sociable as ever, had walked right up and struck up conversation, just like that. The Best Friend Squad, as Bow had affectionately named them, had been inseparable since. It definitely helped that they were all music performance majors: Adora on the keys, Bow on the violin, and Glimmer on the good ol’ vocal cords. They were a merry little ensemble, in and out of the practice rooms.

A waitress made their way to the two of them. They just stuck with the usual; Glimmer decided on a piece of lemon meringue, while Adora ordered a small individual strawberry cheesecake. _Some for now, and most for later_ , she rationalized. The waitress took their order with a smile, and brought them both some water.

“I hope we have room in the fridge for an entire cheesecake.” There was an amused lilt in Glimmer’s voice. She took a quick sip of her water.

“Don’t worry,” Adora assured, “we’ll make room. Plus, it’s a small one. Worst-case scenario, I’ll just have to eat it all before it goes bad.”

 _“_ Oh, the _humanity_. I’d _hate_ for you to go through something like that,”

_Easygoing, steady, light-hearted._

They continued like that for some time, glancing out the window every now and again to people-watch. Adora was captivated by two pigeons, fighting over a bit of food by a trash can, when,

“So, did you end up getting the classes you wanted this semester?” Glimmer asked, nursing her glass of water.

“Uh, yeah, for the most part. I _was_ able to squeeze into that one theory class I was telling you about, though,” Adora admitted, fiddling with the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Psh, you’re the _only_ person I’d know who actually wants to take _more_ theory,” Glimmer snorted. “Isn’t that class mainly for jazz performance majors, anyway?”

“Well, yeah, but the course summary sounded cool, and well, you know, I think that stuff’s kinda interesting,” Adora rambled, unsure of where the conversation was heading. She was beginning to feel slightly uneasy, regardless. Picking her courses out had been unreasonably stressful.

“I get that. I’m just worried you won’t be able to finish on time if you keep taking elective classes like that,” Glimmer asserted, sounding more sincere. “Does it even count towards your major requirements?”

“Well, technically _no_ , but it never hurts to explore a little, right?” Adora hastily justified, trying to not sound as anxious as she felt. Glimmer had a point. And her front wasn’t working.

“Maybe not, during your first year or so. Adora, we’re _juniors_ now,” Glimmer reached across the table to take Adora’s hand with one of her own. “Are you _sure_ you’re in the right program?”

Adora tensed up at the words. Even at the most subtle suggestion that she may _not_ have it all together would make the room feel a little smaller. A little more rigid. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I’m _positive_ I am. I think I just need to talk with a career counselor,” Adora stated plainly. Those words were for herself, just as much as they were for Glimmer. They were also an attempt to reassert some sense of control.

Glimmer offered up an understanding smile, squeezing her hands a little tighter around Adora’s.

“ _Hey_ ,” Glimmer nearly whispered, “you _got_ this. You’re Adora Grey, and you can accomplish _anything_ you set your mind to.”

The weight of Glimmer’s words threatened to bring her to tears. God, what did she ever do to deserve someone like Glimmer in her life? Adora gave a quick nod, trying to show the appreciation on her face. She still felt awfully tense.

“Would you like to change the topic?” Glimmer offered, softly.

Adora nodded again. Glimmer released Adora’s hand.

“So, how’s your mom doing?”

Glimmer’s mom was the head of a real-estate brokerage firm based in Albany, specializing in luxury rental properties. The Bright Moon Group. While this meant a more-than-comfortable income, it also meant many lonely days for Glimmer. Angella often worked long, tedious hours, leaving home early and returning well past dark. Glimmer often tried to convince her mom to take it easy every once in a while; after all, isn’t that the point of being a broker? To let your agents do most of the heavy lifting? Angella would only offer a strained smile in response. _If you want something done right_ , she’d say, _you might as well do it yourself_. Perhaps she had issues with control. Perhaps she was a genuine workaholic. Glimmer could never quite puzzle that one out, even as it took a toll on their relationship.

The proverbial nail in the coffin was laid in when Glimmer let her mom know that she had landed an interview and audition at Juilliard. Angella then went on to preach about job security. Why go and do something so _frivolous_ like that when Glimmer could easily land a spot at the firm? Nepotism, and all that. Just to spite her, Glimmer had saved up the money herself to pay for a bus to New York City; as hotheaded as she could get at times, Adora couldn’t help but admire her determination and dedication to blazing her own trail.

And, thankfully, it seemed she wasn’t the only one. Over the past few years, Angella had come around slowly, but surely. While she might not understand all of the nuances of the performing arts, she wasn’t shutting the topic out anymore. That was progress, and progress was good. Adora had watched as Glimmer gradually regained some of the confidence she had lost.

“Oh, you know, working herself to the bone as usual,” Glimmer said, waving her fork around in the air like a conductor’s baton. “She wants to drive down when it comes time for the public recitals.”

Glimmer was trying to remain casual about the matter, but Adora knew just how much that meant to her. That warm feeling in her chest crept up on her again.

And then the cheesecake arrived; Adora could practically see the stars in Glimmer’s eyes from across the table. Her plate was piled high with bright, tart cake with spiky meringue fluffed on top. Little flakes of lemon zest were scattered around the plate. It smelled like a summer’s evening, sitting out on the porch and drinking ice-cold lemonade. Adora’s dessert (breakfast?) came in a neatly wrapped to-go box, tied up with ribbon and sealed with a small sticker that read _Junior’s Famous Cheesecake._ She could see several glazed strawberries eying her from inside the box, begging to be torn into.

Well, that simply won’t do.

She carefully opened the box, making sure to preserve the seal, grabbed a fork, and got to work. There was no conversation — just the clatter of silverware and satisfied, borderline erotic hums coming from the two girls. How on _earth_ could something taste _this good_? Adora had always been a bit of a foodie, even if her own cooking skills were somewhat lacking. At least in New York City, there was no shortage of good eats to enjoy. They stayed like that for a while, shoveling cheesecake into their mouths, only stopping to get a sip of water before diving right back in. Adora couldn’t help but be reminded of the long summer days spent in Razz’s bakery, up in Saratoga.

It seemed to be over all too soon. Well, for Glimmer at least. Adora still had a nice portion left in the box, which she noted with delight. She carefully sealed the box back up and set it aside.

“Holy shit Adora, why don’t we do this more often?” Glimmer sighed.

The check had somehow managed to appear on the table without either of them noticing. They both took a quick glance.

Yup. _That’s_ why they didn’t do this more often. Oh well — everything in moderation, right?

They went ahead and paid the bill, gathered up their things, and then it was back out onto the streets. Both Adora and Glimmer needed to walk off some of that cheesecake. With stomachs and hearts full, they set a lazy pace and got going. The next order of business; groceries. It wasn’t too far of a walk from here to the store, really. They strolled along, through the crowds and sights and sounds, skyscrapers rising around them from all directions. Glimmer pointed out some particularly striking architecture along the way. A cool breeze whipped its way through the buildings, knocking a few strands of Adora’s hair loose.

And amidst all of the uncertainties that her heart and mind held, at least Adora had this. Glimmer and Bow. No matter what the future had in store, she’d have them.

Even if they could never truly relate to how she was feeling. Even if it would be impossible for them to understand the weight she had placed on her ownshoulders.

That never kept them from listening, and for that, she was thankful.

Catra, on the other hand, was barely listening. The only sounds in the shop at the moment were the creaky hum of the barely-functional AC unit, and Lonnie on speaker-phone with one of her nerd friends from college. She had been working on her calculus review for the past hour or so, preparing for the coming semester at Fordham. From the sound of it, she wasn’t getting anywhere fast. _That’s what you get for going to school for engineering_ , Catra mused.

“Okay Kyle, slow down a sec. Why in the _hell_ do you need that extra variable?” Lonnie asked, beyond frustrated. Kyle’s voice, muffled over the speaker, responded:

“Because you’re technically doing a change of variable here, going from Cartesian coordinates to cylindrical ones. Just do the cross product of-“

 _Ugh. No thank you_. They might as well have been speaking Greek.

Catra crumpled up a piece of paper with some half-scribbled notes on it; she had been trying to dictate one of the riffs she heard on her bus ride over. It just wasn’t coming out quite right for whatever reason. There were just so many grace notes and intricacies in the track; definitely not easy to decipher with the ear alone. Comes with the territory, Catra admitted to herself, being into jazz. So many little nuances, coming at you one million notes per minute. She wound up to chuck the paper into the trash can with all of the grace she could muster.

It missed.

Catra heard Lonnie let out a snort from across the room. It seems her blunder had not gone unnoticed.

With a long groan of annoyance, Catra shifted out of her stool and went to retrieve her botched throw. 

“ _Real_ smooth, Catra,” Lonnie called. Catra offered only a quick, sore glance in return.

“How’s the math going, then?” Catra responded coolly. Lonnie let out a short laugh.

“Not well, if I’m being honest,” she said, turning to her phone, “I think I’m gonna step away from this for now, Kyle. My brain hurts.”

Kyle and Lonnie exchanged some short pleasantries before ending the call there. Catra’s co-worker let out a long, exasperated breath.

“Tell me _why_ the _fuck_ I’m doing this to myself, Catra,” Lonnie muttered, half to herself. She brought her hands to her temples and shut her eyes, leaning back into her chair. Catra bent over to pick up the piece of trash.

“Psh, don’t ask the music major. I don’t mess with that nerd shit,” she called back. She tossed her note into the trash.

“So, you’re telling _me_ ,” Lonnie countered, “that the stuff you do isn’t _just_ as nerdy? I see all of those weird drawings you do in there.” She gestured to Catra’s notebook, laying open on a stack of boxes.

“Uh, excuse you,” Catra scoffed in mock-offense, walking back over now, “those are _highly sophisticated_ chord diagrams and harmonic analyses. I wouldn’t really expect the average nerd to get it either, trust me. _My_ shit is actually cool” Catra retorted with a characteristic smirk. Lonnie only rolled her eyes. Settling back down now, Catra retrieved her bass from where it was leaning against the wall. She threw the strap over her shoulder and let it settle into a natural position. Low notes and thumping began to whisper in the room. She wasn’t playing anything in particular: just messing around. It was hard to focus on just about _anything_ , when even the air itself felt stagnant. Without customers, there wasn’t much to do. _Plenty of time to think_. Sometimes Catra wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

But for now, she just allowed muscle memory to take over as she idly took in her surrounding for what felt like the hundredth time that shift. The dark room had a low ceiling, and each maroon wall and aisle was stocked to the brim with records of all genres. Where there wasn’t a door or a shelf, there was some faded band poster or piece of memorabilia that was likely older that either of them were. The floor was done in off-gray, scuffed-up tile that probably needed buffed out or straight-up replaced. Lonnie sat at the counter, near the very back of the store, while Catra had settled into a more reserved corner. There was a certain charm to the place, Catra couldn’t deny. Stepping into Head Hunters felt like stepping into some alternate reality. Time didn’t quite feel real, as if the outside world was simply going about its business, a completely separate entity. At times, that thought had even been comforting. When school inevitably get hard, Catra knew she’d be a little more appreciative of the place.

But for now, it was just mind-numbingly _boring_. Catra kept up a slow, bluesy melody on her instrument.

“So, you gonna keep working when the semester starts?” Lonnie asked. She seemed to be in just as much of a daze.

“Not sure. I don’t think I’ll quit,” Catra contemplated, “but I might pick up less hours as the semester gets heavy.”

“Yeah, same here. At least I get to do my schoolwork, but, I can’t be too productive here,” Lonnie responded. Catra gave a short nod of agreement, enjoying the small talk. Lonnie continued:

“Do you mind if I go outside to have a smoke?”

“Yeah, I’ll hold down the fort,” Catra answered. Lonnie moved out of her seat, fixing her jacket and reaching into her pocket. She then motioned her pack of cigarettes in Catra’s direction, holding an eyebrow up in question.

“Nah, I’ll pass. Can’t afford being addicted to those things,”

“Psh, neither can I. Maybe one day when we’re old and rich, we can have a cigar together like they do in the movies,” Lonnie mused wistfully, her voice taking on an almost transatlantic flare.

“Maybe indeed,” Catra responded, unfocused. “Now get going,” she continued, “it’s not gonna smoke itself.”

“ _Touché_.”

Lonnie opened the door and made her way out, past the frosted glass and into the world outside. Catra watched as the door shut, sealing her inside once again. She let out a long breath, and directed her attention toward her bass once more. How exactly had she come to spend so much of her time, cooped up in here, watching the minutes creep by? Catra glanced up and around the shop, finding the newfound silence somewhat suffocating.

 _Oh well_. Wouldn’t hurt to give that riff another shot. She took a quick sip of coffee and got back to it. This time with fresh intent.

Adora and Glimmer, with their groceries in tow, arrived back to their room at the Meredith Wilson Resident Hall. True to her word, Adora picked up her slew of healthy proteins, powders, and supplements. Granted, they had also made sure to get plenty of mac and cheese cups, Hot Pockets, and ramen packs for days when they didn’t feel like going to the dining hall or eating out. With a loud groan, Glimmer set her bags down on the kitchenette counter and crashed onto her barely-made bed, exhausted after an eventful morning that bled into the mid-afternoon. To be fair, it was quite a haul. After leaving the store, Adora and Glimmer had hopped back onto the subway to make it back to the upper-west side of Manhattan.

Their room was essentially a studio apartment with two beds. Each of the girls got a twin and a desk, along with a compact dresser that was designed to slide under the bed. All of the furniture was made of that tacky, yellowish wood that seemed to dominate most college residence halls. At least they had their own private bathroom; for that, Adora and Glimmer were both thankful. The door to the apartment opened up to a small kitchen/sink area, complete with a small fridge with a freezer unit up top, barely tall enough to hold a pint of ice cream. On the countertop sat the coveted air fryer, a blender, a microwave, and various other small appliances. While their place was still a bit of a wreck from move-in, it was all starting to come together again. After dinner with Bow, the girls planned to spend the evening getting everything else straightened out. The bland white walls needed some decor, of course. Adora set her bags on the counter next to Glimmer’s and started the work of putting everything away. She tried to place everything as neatly as possible, after which she moved to the fridge. She noted with an odd sense of pride that the small box of cheesecake had _indeed_ fit. _There’s always room for cheesecake_.

“Ugh, I _can’t move_ , Adora,” Glimmer groaned again into her pillow, not having moved an inch.

“Well, if you want to make it to dinner tonight, that might have to change,” Adora called back from the kitchenette, before moving into the bathroom to fix up her ponytail.

“Oh! Right!” Glimmer immediately perked up, lifting her head now. “We should shoot Bow a quick text and let him know that we’re settled in. Maybe he’ll stop in before dinner,” she chimed, before face-planting back into her pillow.

“Will do,” Adora shouted across the room. She whipped out her phone, sneaking a quick picture of Glimmer, and sent it to Bow with the caption, _the boys are back in town_. Bow read her text in short order, answering back with a slew of emojis and a message.

_YOU GUYSSSSS, hold up what room are u_

_- > room 239, be there or be square_

A pause, and then:

_gimme five minutes_

“Hey Glim, Bow’s on his way,” Adora said, the smile audible in her voice.

With a start, Glimmer sat up again, eyes wide, “Really? Shit Adora, the place is a _wreck_. I meant he could come over after we cleaned up a bit”

Adora stepped out of the bathroom briefly and shot her a knowing glance, “What, are you trying to impress him or something?”

Very few things could render Glimmer speechless, and a nod towards her crush on Bow was one way to do it. Her face reddened, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“ _Ador-_ you know what? _You_ need to get yourself a crush so I can make fun of you for it, too,” Glimmer huffed, standing up and moving to tidy up her space.

“The piano is my one true love, you know this,” Adora monologued, bringing one hand up to her chest and extending the other outward dramatically. She then sighed, bringing her arms down to rest at her sides and continuing reservedly, “plus, I barely have time for stuff like that.”

“Oh _please_ Adora, you’ve been out of the closet for, what, three years now and you haven’t so much as held a girl’s hand?” Glimmer scoffed, moving to the vanity beside Adora to brush her hair.

“Well, I’ve held your hand. Does that count?” Adora was hopeful.

Glimmer could only look over at her, and, with a dry, monotone voice, said:

“No.”

Adora couldn’t help that she was a total disaster-lesbian. Sure, she had felt fleeting attraction every now and again, but could never bring herself to actually pursue it with intent. Her excuse was always something along the lines of, _I’ve got a lot on my plate_ , or, _she’s probably not even into women_ , but Glimmer saw through those throwaway lines with ease. _It’s New York City, at a music school!_ Glimmer would always respond. _No one here can be all-the-way straight._

But that was a conversation for another time. Their bickering was interrupted by several excited knocks at the door.

“ _Shit_ ,” Glimmer muttered, putting her brush away and allowing herself one final glance at her reflection. _Go time_. Adora finished adjusting her own hair with much less precision, making her way to the door with Glimmer in tow. With a creak, she opened it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me over on Tumblr at chem-phiz if you wanna keep the party going. The next chapter will be posted shortly after this one. I'll see you there!


	3. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a point in this chapter where music is played; I'm gonna drop a link in the actual text if you want to listen as you read! I hope you enjoy :)

Adora found herself sandwiched directly between Bow and Glimmer. The door hadn’t even shut yet, and he already had already caught them in an embrace.

They all laughed and snickered, holding each other all the more close. Adora then had a moment of self-awareness, suddenly cognizant of her heart leaping and swirling around in her chest. She couldn’t keep back the wide, genuine smile that spread across her face, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Moments like these ought to be savored to the fullest. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, not unlike Adora’s hug with Glimmer earlier.

After what felt like whole minutes, they eventually moved apart, still standing in the doorway of the room. Adora noticed that Glimmer’s blush had only intensified. Bow gestured to the rest of the room.

“Well, are you two gonna welcome me in or what?”

“Nah, you gotta leave now,” Glimmer sighed, waving her hand around. She then gave him a small nudge on the shoulder, chuckling softly, “this might as well be _your_ place, too. Come on in, and uh, _please_ ignore the mess.”

Boxes were still covering a decent portion of the floor space, and Adora’s keyboard still lay unpacked as well.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bow offered, placing a hand on the back of his neck, “trust me, my place still isn’t put together yet either.”

The three of them make their way through the room, tip-toeing and edging their way around the boxes. Adora’s foot caught on the edge of one, and she was nearly sent sprawling, but she caught herself before that could happen. The other two looked at her, thoroughly amused, before piling onto Glimmer’s bed to sit. Adora followed suit.

“Sorry there isn’t a little more room,” Adora sighed, sitting down, “but _now,_ we can talk about dinner. You said you had somewhere in mind?”

“Oh, do I! There’s this really good all-American diner not too far from here, but it’s not like it’s too fancy or anything,” Bow made a hasty move to grab his phone, pulling up a map, “and they get great reviews! Plus, I’ve already been there several times, so I’m basically an expert,” he said with a cheesy smirk.

“Well _duh_ , you grew up here,” Glimmer said.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Bow said with a shrug, “they take reservations, too. What time were you guys thinking?”

Adora glanced at her own phone; it was about 2 o’clock, and she was still stuffed from breakfast. She was willing to bet that Glimmer was in the same boat.

“How about 5:30 or so?” Adora suggested, looking around for a consensus.

“That sounds good to me,” Glimmer said, still maintaining that light blush. _And that was that_.

From there, Adora made a quick call to the diner to set up their reservation for three. Thankfully, they were able to get a table; landing a reservation wasn’t always possible in the city, but apparently this restaurant was more often frequented by the natives than the tourists. Bow always said that _you just have to know where to look_. That much was true; Adora and Glimmer had made their reservations at Junior’s in the weeks prior, just in case. They weren’t willing to risk breaking their pre-semester tradition.

The bunch then had some time on their hands to kill. Still sitting on Glimmer’s bed, they talked for a while, swapping stories about their move-in experiences (apparently, Bow’s roommate Seahawk had already violated several fire hazard codes by bringing his own mini fridge and candles) and whatever else came to mind. They also spoke about their families back at home: Bow mentioned his dads in Brooklyn, Glimmer spoke briefly about her mom, and Adora told several tales from her months spent in Razz’s bakery. There were also times that the conversation slipped into a comfortable silence. Dialogue would ebb and flow naturally, languidly, as Glimmer and Adora continued to unpack their own things. And even in those moments when no one spoke, there was that collective air of comfort they all felt by simply being in each other’s presence again.

It eventually came time for Adora to set up her keyboard. She had brought one of her more compacts ones: a white Roland, kept up to perfection. While no digital piano could ever compare to the touch and feel of an acoustic, at least she could plug in some headphones and practice without disturbing anyone else. That came in handy for the long, late sessions where she’d be up until the wee hours of the morning, repeating the same phrases in her music until they were branded into her muscles. In that work, there lies a certain joy; as a musician, the goal isn’t just to play something right. The goal is always to work until you absolutely cannot play it wrong. To work until it came as naturally as breathing or walking. That was the kind of systematic and disciplined thing that Adora always felt like she was _built_ for. That mindset had not failed her.

After meticulous adjustments to height, the instrument had found its rightful place on a stand at the foot of Adora’s bed. Three chrome pedals, not unlike an acoustic, lay underneath amidst the rat’s nest of wires and cables. It was finally time to try switching the thing on. With the press of a button, the instrument came alive with a soft click and hum, the small screen illuminating and displaying the Roland logo, before switching over to a default grand piano sound. Adora stepped back for a moment to admire her handiwork with her hands resting on her hips. Everything looked to be in order. She almost didn’t notice Bow and Glimmer staring at her with patient smiles, waiting for her to make her next move; listening to Adora play was _always_ a treat. After looking between them and giving a quick thumbs up, she pulled up her bench and sat down, flexing her hands into playing position to test the height. It was just right: the key bed was low enough to be comfortable, but not so low that her posture would be sloppy. She stayed like that for a moment before turning to Glimmer and Bow, saying nothing.

“Uh, Adora? You gonna play us something?” Glimmer wondered aloud, after noticing that Adora was watching them too. Bow nudged Glimmer’s side eagerly with stars in his eyes.

“Man, I’m _so_ excited!”

Adora smiled fondly at that, a subtle blush creeping to her cheeks, “Well, what would you like to hear?”

“Literally _anything_ ,” Bow declared. Glimmer nodded her head in agreement, still beaming.

Adora could only fold her hands and look back at the keys. “Yeah, that’s really helpful,” she mumbled.

“Jesus Adora, don’t sweat it. How about the intro to that Ravel piece you’ve been working on? Jeux D’eau? I haven’t heard that one yet,” Glimmer suggested.

That was a possibility. And what a beautiful piece that was bound to be, once she finished. It was meant to encapsulate the feeling and movement of water in all of its various forms. That, she could do.

Adora nodded, returning her hands to the piano and closing her eyes. She imagined the surface of a lake, with its ripples and waves. Or the gentle pitter-patter of rain against her window.

_Or the thundering torrent of a hurricane, bringing about pure devastation._

She began to play. Her hands moved across the keys, and an immediate looseness took over her figure. She became fluid. Adora herself had vanished, replaced with her practiced hand and gentle keystrokes. That was the sort of practiced depersonalization that she was good at, just as an actor discards themselves and their turmoil as they immerse themselves into a role. A listener might even assume that the music was coming from Adora, from her movements, as opposed to the instrument. The [melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_36x1_LKgg&ab_channel=RananChan) was light and twinkling, with plenty of grace notes that were just _barely_ there. Notes that were audible just long enough to be perceived, yet not noticed, still leaving a ghostly impression on the ear. This piece was rather free-form; it was hard to pick out any particular beat or structure. It was like listening to a waterfall from a distance, as the gentle roar washed away the rocks below, smoothing them out. Softening their edges.

It was, in a word, _beautiful_. Adora continued on, forgetting that Bow and Glimmer were even there with her. Forgetting that there was anything, _anything_ except for this moment of time; forgetting that _she_ was anything at all, except for the notes and pitches she pulled and coaxed expertly out of her instrument. Music was painted onto a blank canvas of silence, pouring out of Adora and Adora alone.

All too soon, it was over. She had reached the point where she could no longer play reliably, and Adora came back with a start. She zoned back into herself, becoming hyperaware of reality, once more. Abruptly, she lifted her hands off the keys and set them back into her lap. She took a moment to recenter herself. Bow and Glimmer simply looked on, as if they had witnessed something supernatural or ethereal.

“ _Wow_ , Adora, that- _that_ was _amazing_. Please tell me you’ll play that for the showcases,” Glimmer whispered, as if afraid that the magic of the moment would be scared away if she spoke too loud. Adora, on the other hand, had no issue breaking the spell.

“Yeah, well, if I can get through enough of it in good time, then _maybe_. There are a lot of things I need to work out of what I’ve already learned, and, well, there’s still a majority of the piece left to do, so-“

“Hey Adora, just breathe for a moment,” Bow said quietly, his eyes boring holes into hers. Seeing _through_ her. “Take a second to be proud of what you’ve already accomplished. Because _that_ ,” he gestured to the keyboard, “was _breathtaking_. You’re incredible.”

Adora just sat there for a moment with her face blank, taking in what he said. Mulling over it in her brain. Without another word, she lifted herself off of the bench and walked over to Bow and Glimmer, pulling them into another hug, much looser than earlier. As always, they returned the gesture without thinking about it.

“Thank you for listening. I love you guys _so much_ , and I’m glad you liked it” Adora murmured into Glimmer’s shoulder. Bow shifted slightly in her grasp, turning to face Adora.

“We know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and, _well_ , probably even more on you mind, but,” he clasped Adora’s hand in his own, “I know that you’ll be able to handle whatever life throws at you. We’re with you, all the way,” he finished with a grin. Adora allowed herself to smile at that. _His words felt so very true_.

Life right now was anything but certain. Adora wasn’t sure where she was going, and she wasn’t sure what to make of where she’s been, but for now:

 _There is this_. Not for the first time today, she was distinctly aware of her heart beating gingerly in her chest. Adora also remembered that they had a dinner reservation soon. She was certainly looking forward to that. Good food, and even better people to share it with.

_Easygoing, steady, light-hearted._

The sun was starting to dip below the tops of the city’s buildings, and the cool air of evening began to creep in.

All Catra was looking forward to was getting outta here. An uneasy commute back to her place in the dark was never ideal; Dusk was already setting in, and the summer days were starting to get shorter as the heat of July tempered into a meeker August. Thankfully, her shift was nearly over. Rogelio was supposed to close tonight, and it’s not like the shop would be open for too much longer anyways. It was _pointless_. If people hadn’t come during the day, they sure as hell weren’t gonna come later.

 _He just has to get his scaly ass here first_.

Catra had already downed the last sips of her coffee. Her bass was already put away. She had just bent down to lock it up when she heard the front door of the shop open and close with a soft chime. Catra’s ears perked up readily. _Finally_.

“Hey Rogel-“ It was, in fact, not Rogelio. When she stood back up, there was only a short, pimply teen at the front of the room, hunched over with his hands in his pockets. Catra would’ve bet money on him being a SoundCloud rapper or something stupid like that. Or about the least-intimidating burglar she could imagine. “Oh, sorry. Welcome to Head Hunters. Can I help you find anything?” Catra said, putting on the best customer-service voice she could muster. Some exasperation still made its way through. _Fuck this, I wanna go home_.

“Nah man, just looking for some samples for my next track. Gotta get that authentic sound. Where’s your oldies records?”

 _Yup_. Definitely a SoundCloud rapper. You’d get those every once in a while. She gestured simply to one of the aisles before bending down, attempting to lock her case again. It did with a soft _click_. She straightened herself up and slumped back into her stool, trying to appear like she hadn’t spent all day slacking off. Trying to appear a little less exhausted than she felt. Rogelio needed to _hurry his ass up_. The last few minutes of her shift passed like a kidney stone. Or molasses on a winter night. Catra ran out of interesting metaphors and praised whatever God was out there when the front door jingled again. A stocky lizard-man hustled in, aware of his subtle tardiness. She looked at him head-on, making sure that he could see her mouth.

“Hey man. You good if I head out?”

He gave a nod and thumbs-up in reply. He rarely, if ever, tried to speak, but that was all the confirmation that Catra needed. With her backpack and guitar case slung over one shoulder, she waded through an aisle of records and out the door, careful not to knock anything over on the way. Rogelio’s selective hearing — _or lack thereof,_ Catra supposed — would make him a perfect match with that kid in the store when he tried to plug his next album. They always did that.

She set off towards the bus stop, keeping her eyes and ears alert. And what a task that was; it was hard to stay present, in the moment, when everything just played on loop, skipping and sputtering back to the same overplayed motif. A broken record player, perhaps. _How fitting_.

It was the same pavement she had been looking at for the past few years. Street lamps flickered on as she walked, bathing the surroundings in a faint, sickly-yellow haze. Everything had started to look the same, day in and day out. At least the beginning of a new semester would give Catra something different to look forward to, but even that would just become part of the routine in short order. The commute home went off without a hitch, blurring as her brain went on auto-pilot. The walk was the same. The wait for the bus was the same, and so was the ride. Even the coffee, now gone, was the same.

Before she knew it, Catra was standing before the door to her apartment back in the Bronx. Her complex (nicknamed _The Horde_ by its residents) was comprised of two floors of flats, weathered by time and use. Battered by the endless cycle of college students moving in and out. _If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, I guess_. Except, Catra noted, the place was basically falling apart. But it was home. It was better than Charleston.

She slipped her key into the lock, and-

The door opened before she could get it herself, and Double Trouble stood in the doorway, looking hilariously frazzled.

“Thank _fuck_ you’re back, kitten — _please_ explain to Entrapta why taking apart the oven is a _bad_ idea,” they sputtered, pointing behind them into the kitchen. Tools littered the floor, and Scorpia was currently standing between Entrapta and the stove, using her sheer height and wingspan as a barricade.

“Y’know, I _totally_ get why someone would want to do that. Trust me. I’m here for being creative,” Scorpia explained, shifting as Entrapta tried to maneuver around her, “ _but_ -“

“ _Exactly_! Which is why examining the heating element in-person is so _crucial_. Observation is the most worthwhile method for gaining a better understanding of thermodyna-“ Entrapta squeaked, before Double Trouble cut her off.

“Darling, you can’t do science if you’ve starved to death because you didn’t have a _functional_ oven. Or if you burnt alive because it’s a _fucking_ _heating_ _element,_ and that’s how _fire_ _happens,_ ” they shouted behind them. It was a miracle that Entrapta hadn’t already burnt The Horde to the ground yet.

“ _All_ science has an element of risk! How else are we supposed to advance in our thinking and understanding _without hands-on experience!?_ ”

Scorpia stepped on a hammer with a yelp.

 _Yup, this was home_. At least when life started to get too predictable, these three bumbling idiots would be there to throw in an element of surprise. Catra couldn’t decide if the display in the kitchen was terrifying or impressive. She decided to settle on both.

“Gimme one second,” Catra muttered as she slipped by Double Trouble. This would be an easy fix. After setting her things down at the door, Catra strolled over to her room and slipped behind the door for a moment, grabbing one of her amps that had been acting up as of late. Upon returning to the kitchen, she set it down with a dull thump.

“You wanna try and fix this thing?” Catra offered plainly, motioning towards the amp. That was all it took.

“ _Catra_! Yes _of course_ , but, can I maybe _possibly…_ take it apart?” Entrapta asked, her eyes pleading. Catra held back a laugh.

“Knock yourself out. As long as you put it back together.”

“ _Deal_!” Entrapta shrieked, quickly gathering up her tools. In the blink of an eye, the amp was gone, and Entrapta’s door shut with a whack. Hopefully that would keep her out of the oven for a while. At least her amp might be working again. _Might_.

“You know, there’s a good chance you’ll never see that thing ever again,” Double Trouble drawled, shutting the front door behind Catra and slinking over to the couch. They took a seat on one end and threw their head back, eyes closed. “But it worked, so I can’t say too much. We live another day.”

Scorpia was still on the floor, nursing her hurt foot with the blunt face of a pincher. It’s not like she could do much with those.

“You good down there?” Catra called, a little concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine,” Scorpia answered, looking up now. “Just uh, _yikes_ , that hurt.”

Catra let out a grunt in response. How four completely different people could cohabitate in a tiny four-bedroom was a complete and utter mystery. But they made it work, and Catra wouldn’t have it any other way. _Even if I’d never admit that._

It was then her turn to flop down unceremoniously onto the couch, which groaned in protest as she stretched out, flexing her claws. All at once, the exhaustion from the day caught up to her as she sank deeper into the cushions. Why was she _so tired_ , anyways? It’s not like she had actually done much. Boredom, in and of itself, however, can be quite taxing.

Double Trouble was eyeing her curiously.

“ _Someone_ looks like they could use a drink.”

It was like they had read her mind. Evening wine socials weren’t an uncommon occurrence between the two of them (even though Catra had always been more partial to beer or hard cider). Out of her three roommates, she felt the most connected to Double Trouble by far. They had this way of asking good questions and truly getting to the core of a conversation, before sitting back to listen, just as intently. Small-talk was a rarity, and after a long day of work, it was a nice change of pace.

_Do we even have decent wine?_

“Yeah, probably. I just gotta get some dinner first.”

Ignoring every impulse in her body telling her to stay put, she wrenched herself off the couch and dragged herself to the kitchen. It was the first room that you’d find yourself if you entered the flat. With the dim lighting, low ceilings, and countertops made from sterile, white ceramic, it might come off as unfriendly: if it weren’t for the little drawings of the four of them taped to the fridge and the succulents on the counter, that is. Those were both courtesy of Scorpia. Her girlfriend ( _Perfume_? _Plumeria_? _Something like that._ ) had a bit of a green thumb, and it seemed to have rubbed off. Thank _God_ succulents don’t need too much light. Speaking of Scorpia, she was no longer on the floor. Probably in her own room by now.

Catra reached into the fridge and pulled out some leftovers, stolen from the dining hall back on campus. There wasn’t much else in the fridge, aside from some miscellaneous condiments and alcohol. It wasn’t exactly the ritz, but it would do. Most of their stuff didn’t need to be refrigerated anyways, but there _was_ a new bottle of white wine sitting in there. Hadn’t even been opened. She popped the container into the microwave to heat her food, occasionally taking it out to stir.

“You want me to grab you a glass of wine?”

“Is the sky blue?”

“It’s dark outside,” Catra teased. There was no retort to that. She fished out a wine glass from overhead while the microwave droned away.

“Do you want a regular glass of wine, or something that’ll actually get the job done?”

“Typically, you only ask a question if you don’t know the answer, kitten.”

Figures. Catra’s tail gave a little flick, and she filled the glass generously.

Gathering up her dinner from the microwave, along with Double Trouble’s beverage, she went back to the couch, but not before grabbing a hard cider from the fridge for herself. Really, there was no clear distinction as to what was “kitchen” and what was “living room”. It was all open concept. From the main room, two narrow hallways opened up on opposite ends, each leading to two bedrooms to reach a total of four. Double Trouble and Catra took up one side, with Scorpia and Entrapta occupying the other. You’d think that Scorpia would have a difficult time sleeping, sharing a wall with Entrapta and all. But Catra had her own fair share of… _challenging_ nights, when Double Trouble brought someone back _for a little fun_ , as they’d put it. Oh well, it wasn’t too excruciating. As long as their fuck buddies were gone by morning, she couldn’t really bring herself to care much.

She set her food down on the beat-up coffee table, finally settling down herself once again. _Ugh. Finally._

Double Trouble took their glass between two fingers before taking a sip.

“So, anything interesting happen at work?”

Catra had to think for a second. Her shift had all blended together like mush in her brain; nothing really stuck out.

“As if anything interesting ever happens at work,” Catra responded, with absolutely no inflection in her voice. She really didn’t want to talk about work after spending what felt like every waking minute there.

“I guess that subject is dead in the water,” Double Trouble muttered, somehow picking up on her disinterest. It was wild how they could do that.

“Any cute girls, at least?” Ah yes, now _this_ subject came up every once in a while. Double Trouble was nothing if not a romantic. Well, if your definition of a romantic is a drunken one-night stand and a _very_ strict no-feelings policy. That was how Double Trouble conducted themselves, at least. Catra herself had dabbled in the territory when she first moved here, eager to experiment and experience something new. Something that was never possible back home. Her own little rebellion, you could say. That phase of her life hadn’t lasted long. _Stuff_ started to get in the way. She certainly wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship, so when her own feelings veered close to anything other than simple arousal, she jumped ship and swam for her life. Catra picked at her dinner, before looking to Double Trouble and offering out a choked laugh.

“Nah, not really.”

Double Trouble nodded knowingly, not surprised in the least. That answer hadn’t changed for several months. Before they could dig any deeper into the topic, Catra started to eat. They settled into a congenial silence at that, tossing conversation back and forth: Catra inhaling her food and Double Trouble sipping steadily on wine in the interim. Neither of them wanted to break the silence too much; it was difficult to come by. They kept their voices low and passive.

As Catra finished her meal, her friend’s glass was nearly empty. _That didn’t take long_. She straightened up at that and sat the empty container onto the coffee table. Next on the menu was the bottle of hard cider. After a brief struggle with her keys, eyes narrowing in concentration, the cap came off with a _pop_. She took a moment to take in the smell, sniffing lightly: green apples with the unmistakable aroma of alcohol. Beer-like, even. She preferred the tart kind of cider to the overly sweet red-apple variety. It had the tendency to coat your throat and leave you feeling phlegmy. _Gross_. This was lighter and more refreshing, with a little bite to it. Catra raised the bottle to her lips and took a long swig.

“You look like you _needed_ that,” Double Trouble commented, eyeing their own glass. Wordlessly, they got up and went to the kitchen, likely to remedy the distinct lack of drink. They were right; a pleasant buzz was a decent way to close the day. She continued to work on her own as Double Trouble fiddled around in the kitchen.

She always hated feeling like this; there was no other word for it than _boredom_. Most people looked forward to summer break, but Catra was always left waiting for the next semester. Something to shake up the routine. Less hours in the record store and more hours in the practice room, refining her craft to a point. More hours learning, soaking in new information about the rules of music and how to break them with purpose. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to jazz; your sound can be whatever you want it to be, even if it isn’t always technically “correct” in a theoretical sense. You can let your ear guide you right off the page, and into something far deeper and emotive. Complete control. That was always the most important thing impressed on Catra, during her long talks with the dying breed of jazz musicians back in West Virginia. If there was one thing, and one thing only, she missed about the state, it was them. _They’re the reason I’m here._

Double Trouble had retired to their room for the evening, and Catra was again alone with her thoughts. They must have taken her empty Tupperware to the sink, too. She also noted that her drink was empty, the last remnants of cider swirling at the bottom of the bottle. Determined to get the last drop, she tossed her head back and waited for the remainder of her drink to slide past her lips.

 _Everything’s about to change again_ , she thought.

 _Good_ , her mind answered back, dulled by the slightest edge of a buzz.

_I’m gonna show ‘em all what I’m made of._

She tossed her bottle into the trash, grabbing another bottle to replace it. When thoughts were not occupying her mind, music certainly was; the bass riff from the bus ride to work still bounced around in her head, begging to be dissected. That was what the evenings were for.

_I guess I’m not much different from Entrapta, in that way._

She got up from the couch and opened the door to her room, vanishing into the dark as her tail swished behind her. The door shut with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise stuff is gonna actually start happening soon, but I want to make sure to set the scene properly before I get into that. I've got a rough idea of where I want the plot to go, so stay tuned! Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave any questions or comments. I don't bite, I promise
> 
> (Find me on Tumblr at chem-phiz)


End file.
